


Restaurant

by mudget



Series: Captain Planet 100 Situations [5]
Category: Captain Planet and the Planeteers
Genre: 100 situations, Business, F/M, One Shot, Restaurants, Romance, Scheming, Sexual Tension, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 15:31:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5339270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mudget/pseuds/mudget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Looten Plunder glanced impatiently at his watch for the third time in as many minutes. He didn't like to be kept waiting. Even by her. Time was money and Looten hadn't become a wealthy businessman by sitting idle. "What if I said I had the perfect plan to get rid of those meddling Peskiteers and their do-gooder Captain Pun-head?" One-shot, 100-Situations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restaurant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plunderer01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plunderer01/gifts).



> So, this was actually written like a billion years ago when OzQueen and I decided to choose the same prompt and each do our own spin on it. No lie, I'm pretty sure I actually began this like 2010 or something ridonc. Anyway, I wrote it for Plunderer01. So uh, dude, here you go! Sorry it's a little late ;)

_Prompt: Restaurant_

Looten Plunder glanced impatiently at his watch for the third time in as many minutes. He drummed his fingers absently against the empty glass and catching sight of a waiter beckoned with a small nod and a shake of his glass for a refill.

"I'll take another Scotch. Single malt, straight up."

The waiter politely nodded and withdrew, taking the empty scotch glass with him.

Plunder cast his eyes around the busy room, his expression belying his annoyance at being kept waiting. His gaze lingered on a couple seated a short distance from his table, draped in expensive finery and impeccable attire. Armani-suit lazily ran a finger along Versace-couture's forearm as he murmured against her ear. She twirled the champagne flute in her fingers and let out a small laugh that was barely audible over the din of the restaurant. Plunder tore his eyes away to glance irritably at his watch.

He didn't like to be kept waiting. Even by her. Time was money and Looten hadn't become a wealthy businessman by sitting idle.

The waiter returned with his drink and Plunder lifted the glass to his nose, inhaling deeply and swirling the contents. He took a sip and peered over the edge of the glass at the approaching figure.

He savoured the amber liquid before acknowledging the woman, rolling the Scotch over his tongue, relishing the astringency and the short bitterness as he swallowed.

"You're late."

Doctor Blight quirked a thin eyebrow at his tone. "Lighten up, Looten," she said breezily as she dropped herself into the chair. 

Plunder's eyes narrowed marginally and he tightened his grip around his glass. He glanced to the aluminium briefcase Blight was sliding beneath her chair and looked back to her coolly.

"Why the hell did you bring him along?" He cast a quick glance around the restaurant. None of the other patrons paid them any heed, and he returned his steely gaze to the blonde woman seated before him. 

She looked back at him, silently, her fingers stroking the silverware set before her. Plunder shifted a little in his seat and cleared his throat, his eyes flicking to the knife beneath her gloved hand. 

She smirked at his obvious uncertainty, shifting her weight as she crossed her legs. Leaning back in her chair she gave him a level look. "Want my help or not, Plunder?" 

He opened his mouth to reply but closed it as the waiter approached their table. The waiter offered a slight bow and addressing Blight politely enquired if she would like a beverage.

"Dry Martini, hold the Vermouth," answered Blight.

"Certainly, madam," replied the waiter. He collected the wine list from the table, glancing furtively in Plunder's direction and departed with a small dip of his head.

Blight eyed Plunder as he swirled the Scotch in his glass. "So what's with the fancy meeting place, Looten?" She cast her eyes over the array of tables, over the pomp and glitter of the assorted diners. They all looked the same just with varying outfits and varying degrees of arrogance. She turned back to Plunder. "Not the most practical location to unveil this new scheme of yours."

He took another mouthful of the sharp liquor. He lazily turned the glass against the crisp table linen with his fingertips as he swallowed. It was his turn to smirk as Blight waited impatiently for him to respond. She rolled her eyes, folding her arms in front of her chest and kicking her foot impatiently.

Plunder gave her a smug grin. "What if I said I had the perfect plan to get rid of those meddling Peskiteers and their do-gooder Captain Pun-head?"

Blight snorted. "I've heard that one before." 

Plunder merely shrugged, his eyes studying the prism of light reflecting off his glass. His face still held the smug smile, but he remained silent, much to Blight’s annoyance.

She sighed irritably. “Just spill already, Looten.” 

“All in good time, my dear. All in good time.” 

Plunder was a very good businessman, despite his questionable methods. He was well-versed in giving sales pitches, and his numerous business schemes – even if they were ultimately unsuccessful because of meddling teens and their Planet pet – were testimony to his skill. He also knew Blight.

The woman studied Plunder again, causing him to shift slightly under her scrutiny. He caught sight of the approaching waiter, happy for the distraction. Clearing his throat he lifted a finger to indicate to Blight the delivery of her Martini. She took the drink without acknowledgment, and Plunder had to smirk at the nervous uncertainty of the staff member. 

Holding the swizzle stick against the side of the Martini glass with a forefinger, Blight took a gulp of her drink. As the cool gin rolled down her throat she spotted a gushing couple and rolled her eyes. She looked back to Plunder and set her glass down.

“So what is it you want me to do?” she asked bluntly. She swivelled in her seat to drape an elbow over the high back of the chair, uncrossed and recrossed her legs. She lazily stirred the olive in her glass.

He gave her a small, self-satisfied smile. “I’m glad you asked. Yours is a crucial role if this scheme is to be a success.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” she said dryly. 

His smile faltered for a second. “Yes, well...” He cleared his throat and glanced to the contents of his glass. “As I was saying, your involvement is the keystone of this plan. My pockets are deep, but I need your superior – er – scientific know-how and skill.” He raised the glass to his lips and took a sip. “So, what say you?”

Blight’s good eye followed a meal being carried to one of the nearby tables. In truth, she would likely be party to any plan that involved removing the eco-geeks. But prior experience had taught her to play along with Plunder’s little spiels, and she was always cautious when working with people; especially individuals who wouldn’t hesitate to let someone else take the fall to save their own skin, despite their mutual motives. Hell, she would too, if given the opportunity.

“Who else is in on this?” 

It was Plunder’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Of course Bleak will be involved, and I’ll, er, we’ll require some hands to do the heavy lifting, so to speak.” He studied his manicured nails. “Someone will also need to be the bait to lure the Planet-twerps.”

Blight’s attention was piqued. She sat forward with a glint in her eye. “Sludge?” she asked, clasping her hands under her chin.

“Why of course.” He grinned and took another mouthful of Scotch. “Would I settle for anyone less disposable?”

Laughing delightedly, she picked up her glass and held it aloft. “I’ll drink to that!” The clear ring of premium glassware sounded before each took a generous swig.

“Ah, the food,” he observed, setting down his glass. He shook out his napkin, draping it onto his lap as a plate of canapés was set before the pair. “I took the liberty of ordering,” he added. 

Blight eyed the selection of food. “You’d think a place this pricey might be capable of serving larger portions,” she remarked wryly. 

“I have to say I agree. I’m all for over-consumption.” Plunder selected one of the hors d’oeuvres. “Especially delicacies like Caspian Sea beluga caviar.” He popped the morsel into his mouth and gave a satisfied smile. “It tastes so much better when it’s sourced from wild sturgeon.”

“This better be real foie gras and not that ‘humane’ crap,” Blight stated bitterly, grabbing one of the canapés. She studied it a moment before eating it. “Mm, nothing like force-fed goose liver to satisfy a craving.” She sucked the ends of her fingers clean. Plunder pointedly glanced to the napkin remaining intricately folded on the table. Blight pointedly ignored the gesture.

“So,” began Plunder, selecting another appetiser, “are you on board?”

The blonde smirked. “Come now, Lootey, you haven’t even unveiled this plan of yours.” She picked up her glass. “You can’t expect me to go ahead without knowing the details. You haven’t actually told me what you want me to do. Besides, I want to hear if this idea is as fool-proof as all of your other schemes,” she added curtly, smiling into her glass as she took another gulp.

His expression hardened at that last remark and he unconsciously ran a hand down his tie. With a cool gaze he sat back in his chair and clasped his hands across his stomach. “You mean, as equally successful as your prior schemes?” he replied shortly, raising an eyebrow.

Blight scowled and drained the remainder of her Martini, savouring the crisp, dry burn. 

The smug smile returned to Plunder’s face. As the scientist sulked and fed herself several more of the gourmet canapés the businessman sipped his Scotch and let his eyes wander over the array of wealthy patrons adorning the stylishly decorated room. He eyed a table of lawyers set towards a far corner, recognising the arrogant, overconfident bearing of one of the figures seated. 

Blight turned her head to follow his gaze. “Friend of yours?”

The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “Something like that. It does pay to have friends in high places. I can vouch his legal fees afford him his rather... comfortable lifestyle.”

The woman snorted in response, unimpressed by the Suits’ competitive peacock display. She turned back to Plunder, a forefinger idly toying with her garnish. She watched the businessman, silently, a rapacious glint in her eye and a predatory smile hitching at her mouth. 

His eyes unwittingly followed the olive as the woman raised it to her lips. She sucked the remnants of gin from the garnish. Plunder swallowed. 

Blight slid the olive off its stake with her teeth and casually tossed the stick into her glass as she sat back in her chair.

Plunder’s eyes lingered a moment too long before he met her watchful, self-satisfied gaze. Shifting self-consciously under her scrutiny he softly cleared his throat and shoved a caviar-encrusted morsel into his mouth. 

She did enjoy toying with him, and the smug, self-assurance that had settled across her shoulders like a fur coat was a visible indication that he’d fallen prey to another of her games.

Plunder also recognised it as a clear sign she was growing bored and impatient.

He wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin. “I want you to develop a fully immersive virtual reality system.” 

She narrowed her eyes. “I thought you needed my skill and expertise. That’s not exactly new or challenging, Plunder.”

“Ah, but I’m not referring to current immersive technology. No, I’m talking about a virtual reality all but indistinguishable from actuality.” He brushed away a stray crumb from the tablecloth. “Simulated reality, I guess you could call it.”

The scientist tilted her head to the side. “A simulation that immerses the user into a fully embedded system...” She nodded to herself as she worked the idea over in her mind. “If I integrated full life-support they’d never have to leave the program. By accessing memories and directly connecting their brain to MAL I could create a virtual world and those Planet-pukes would never know they were inside a simulation.” Her eye focused back on the man opposite her. “Why Lootey, this is a grande scheme,” she said with a wicked grin.

“I thought you might approve,” he replied as he smiled into the last mouthful of Scotch.

He glanced up to the blonde as he pushed aside his newly emptied glass. “You will, of course, have complete control in the design and operation of the simulator. As long as those meddling teenagers are kept alive but out of commission, you can do as you please.” He smiled wolfishly.

Beaming, her eye glinting with malicious delight, she said almost breathlessly, “I’m sure MAL and I can come up with something creative.” Her expression suddenly darkened. “Payback for all the years of interfering and meddling and ruining everything,” she hissed bitterly.

“I’m sure you will,” Plunder replied dryly. He had little love for the sycophantic computer. The mere mention of the annoyingly ever-present, over-sized calculator caused a reflexive scowl.

“Aw, look,” Blight drawled in mock sympathy, “Lootey’s all jealous. What’s wrong, Plunder, baby? Does the little computer intimidate you?” Her mouth curled into a sneer. 

The tycoon fought to maintain his composure, his fingers briefly curling against the stiff table linen. Catching the tinkle of laughter above the indiscriminate chatter his eyes slid to the well-dressed couple he spotted earlier, now sharing a cream-lathered cherry. He looked back to the woman before him and regarded her with a steely glare.

“If perhaps you dared to share more of your time with those of us made from flesh and blood, and less with a machine composed entirely of metal and circuitry, you would come to realise that I really don’t have much cause to feel intimidated,” he said bluntly. “You may have programmed his intellect and his aggravating personality, my dear doctor, but there are certain...attributes that you simply cannot program.” He lifted his empty glass without breaking eye contact, a vigilant waiter acknowledging his request. “So no, Barbara, I am not intimidated by your little computer.”

“Is that a proposition?” she asked, leaning forward on the table, eyebrow raised.

Plunder stared back at her a moment before clearing his throat. He readjusted his tie and flicked his eyes to the approaching waiter delivering his drink.

The waiter replaced the glass of Scotch on the table, casting a respectful, but wary eye towards the blonde. 

“While you get reacquainted with your friend there,” Blight nodded towards the glass, “I think I might just go and powder my nose,” she announced sweetly. She pushed her chair back and swept up the case beneath it in one fluid motion. 

Looten Plunder watched her saunter away from the table, his expression impassive as he caught sight of nearby patrons appreciatively eyeing the sway of her hips. He took a large pull from his glass, grimacing as it burned its way down his throat. 

He drummed his fingers against the table, allowing his eyes to wander once more over the room. He watched as Armani and Versace wove their way between tables, arm in arm, and made their way to the front of the restaurant. The woman playfully nuzzled against the man’s neck until a car slowly glided up the drive to meet them. Plunder watched the escort step neatly into the roadster, admiring the sleek efficiency of her profession. She’d earn her extravagant meal and finery that night and still come out ahead. He appreciated smart business; it mattered little the mode. Particularly one that offered simple pleasures to a man of wealth.

Turning the glass against the tabletop he glanced impatiently towards the door Blight had passed through several minutes earlier. He was loath to admit he was slightly anxious for Blight’s response. It wasn’t just spruiking and flattery when he revealed Blight’s major role in the proposed scheme; he had already invested large sums of money in preparation, and everything relied on this piece of technology. Technology he knew only Blight was capable of designing in his express time-frame. He well expected a confrontation of suspicious questions, and was both prepared and well equipped to disarm them. If his plan went accordingly, he would make a significant monopoly on simulative technology. Not only did he have wealth and industry domination to gain from his proposal, but it would put those eco-freaks out of action, and without the mess dead bodies tend to dredge up. Particularly those of five well-known “world warriors”. His mouth twisted in distaste. Fingers would point and he just could not be bothered dealing with that sort of press and expense. This way he not only profited from their “indisposition” but he could put a PR spin that enabled him to get away with it cleanly. He smiled to himself and took a satisfying gulp of burning Scotch.

Blight finally strolled back to the table. Plunder once again peered over his glass at her as she approached. His cool gaze dropped to the case swinging easily from her gloved hand. He hoped MAL saw the prospects of aligning themselves with this project. Blight held MAL’s opinion in high regard – when it suited her - and at his word Plunder’s plan could be over before it had begun. Of course, Plunder would never allow Blight to know, and so he watched her with a cool gaze and matching demeanour. 

Sliding the case beneath the table with a foot, Blight leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. She held the businessman’s gaze. She noted a flash of impatience pass briefly across his eyes, but he remained silent and watchful.

She broke the look to eye nearby patrons. “First things first, Looten,” the doctor said haughtily. “Does this kitschy place actually serve meals or is it just for show?”

Plunder flicked his eyes to the wait staff standing against the wall nearby and gave a terse nod. The waiter quickly straightened before disappearing towards the kitchen. Plunder turned his attention back to Blight. “I also took the liberty of ordering your main. I chose something appropriate to your taste. I’m sure you will approve,” he added, catching her glower.

Silence hung between the pair. The sounds in the restaurant – the hum of chatter, the chink of cutlery against china and the occasional peal of laughter – were almost deafening to Plunder’s ears as he struggled to maintain control of his impatience. She was waiting for him, almost baiting him, to break and ask what she had decided. He would not let her win this one. Instead he gripped his glass and gave a mocking cordial smile.

To Plunder’s relief two waiters emerged carrying two large silver platters. As they set the platters down they removed the lid to reveal a large lobster each atop a garden of green, curly lettuce, surrounded by a half dozen fresh oysters – freshly shucked – nestled on a bed of sea-salt with a wedge of lemon. To the side was a small ice-filled dish with a live shrimp soaked in vodka and lime. Two more waiters appeared, one placed a bowl of lemon-water and an empty bowl on the table, and the other laid out cutlery and lobster cracker, and soft white hand-towels.

Blight was mildly impressed. Mildly. Plunder raised his glass in toast. “To good fortune, and good riddance to bad rubbish”. Blight clinked her glass against his with a smirk, and took a gulp. Plunder sipped, watching Blight over his glass as she removed her long, pink gloves. They both started on their meals, indulging in the slurp of the oysters, and the crunch of the crustaceans. 

Doctor Blight dabbed at the corners of her mouth and heaved a sated sigh, dumping her napkin on her emptied plate. She looked at Plunder levelly. “Such a complicated scheme to keep the little shits off our cases, Plunder. What makes you so sure this one will work?”

“Well, of course, there are much simpler, neater and less costly methods of disposing the eco-brats, but I see this as a win-win situation. You get to create a world-first in the scientific arena. I get to reap the profits, and we rid ourselves of vermin.” He chuckled with a glint in his eye. “My people will falsify the ethics papers and anything else that might need to be forged.” He vaguely waved his hand in the air. “I’ve already got people looking into who is leading the regulating committee.” At her questioning eyebrow he added, “Everyone has their price, my dear. Anyone can be bought.” 

He waited for her response, watching as she turned the idea in her head.

“I get my own lab. Fully outfitted, with whatever I ask for.”

“I would expect nothing less. We already have a space organised for you. You just let my staff know what you need and they’ll organise it and get it set up in the lab.”

She traced a shape on the tablecloth with a pink-lacquered nail. “I retain ownership rights to the invention, on top of my usual stipend. I can hire and fire anyone I choose. My lab, my rules.” She knew it was an offer that was likely to fall flat, and Plunder was good at his job, but no harm came from throwing it out there. You don’t get ahead in the game without negotiating.

Plunder laughed darkly. “No chance, Barbara. I came up with the concept after all, and I’m hiring you to build it for me. You’ll retain your usual royalties on sales, on top of you generous salary. I’ll even give you a bonus if you complete it before the deadline. You can hire as you see fit, and fire when necessary. But please try not to get us sued, or leave a mess I have to clean up.” Blight smirked.

She pulled on her gloves, acting as if she were considering Plunder’s offer. He rolled his eyes at her obvious charade, but waited for her reply, swirling the remaining dregs in his glass.

“I do believe we have a deal, Looten.” She extended a gloved hand. He took it with a grin, shaking it firmly before turning it palm-down and planting a kiss over her knuckles. 

“I’ll have my lawyer draw up the contract and send it to you. I’ve got a good feeling about this one, Blight. A damn good feeling.”

“My invention will be flawless, Lootey-baby. It’ll come down to pulling the scheme off. Let’s hope Sludge doesn’t fuck it all up.”

“Mm. Well, he’ll be given such a simple job it will be impossible for him to screw it up. But, since we are talking about Sludge here, we will just have to plan accordingly, and let him take the fall. It’s probably for the best anyway. He really is quite terrible at his job.”

“The imbecile still owes me money too.” Blight threw back the remainder of her drink and pushed aside the prospect of encountering Sly Sludge once more. She felt heady with the thrill of a new project, as well as the effects of the alcohol. Her mind was already sifting through plausible and implausible solutions; calculating how to integrate the life support, and implant new memories built on extracted memories. How to program a living nightmare the Planet-pukes will be completely unaware they’re trapped inside. Her eyes slid to Plunder. “I hope you saved room for dessert,” she said throatily. 

His mouth slid into a smile. “Always.” He lifted a finger from the table-top and a waiter suddenly appeared beside him. “Settle my bill.”


End file.
